


Plasty

by kingdomkey



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Animals, M/M, Pets, veterinarian Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:32:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingdomkey/pseuds/kingdomkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pathetic title because I don't know what to call this. Veterinarian Arthur and unnamed career Alfred, dating. Alfred wants to come in after a successful date and Arthur is hesitant but acquiesces. Alfred finds out exactly what Arthur’s specialty is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plasty

Arthur feels good in his arms, their heat warding off the early spring chill. They’re at the door to Arthur’s townhouse, arms around each other and kissing. Arthur’s hand is at the back of his neck, scratching at the small hairs and making him shiver, and Alfred can’t seem to keep his out of Arthur’s slacks. Just as Alfred begins pushing him closer to the door, Arthur pushes back, separating them.

“Can I come in?” Alfred whispers, laying soft kisses along the older man’s jaw. By the way Arthur sighs, he’s sure a yes is coming. But Arthur shakes his head, sounding like he’s gasping, before holding Alfred’s head so their eyes meet.

“Not tonight. Maybe another day.”

Alfred sighs through his nose and fights not to look disappointed. “Oh. Alright.”

“It’s not you,” Arthur says, petting his face and neck ever so gently. “It’s just… I haven’t cleaned in a while.”

Alfred, frowning, puts his hands on Arthur’s hips. “You know I don’t mind messes.”

“This is a little different from your messes. I’ve been working overtime in my kitchen and everything is filthy. I don’t want you to think I’m a slob.”

“Oh, well, if it’s work-related then I can totally ignore it. It’s fine!” Alfred grins, thumbs playing with the other man’s belt. His expression shifts and he looks a little guilty. “But if you’re that worried about it, I won’t come in.”

Conflicted, Arthur stares at Alfred, who looks at him with understanding. His chest hurts in the best way possible at this man’s sincerity, and he feels his will crumbling. In moments he smiles and drops one hand to fish his keys out of his pocket.

“I changed my mind.”

Alfred waits patiently behind him as he unlocks the door. The lock clicks and Arthur pushes the door open and stops before bending over. Alfred stops himself from walking into him by grasping the door frame. 

He sighs before Arthur turns to him, forcing him to perk up again.

“This is Suzie,” he states, briefly bouncing a white-faced gray cat in his arms. “I rescued her and her kittens years ago. They all found good homes so I brought her into mine.”

“Hey Suz.” Alfred grins and rubs the top of the cat’s head. “Man, she must have been a looker when she was younger.”

“Gorgeous, if I’m honest.”

Laughing, Alfred scratches under her chin, and Suzie purrs. He’s never had cats, only dogs, but he thinks he could come to like cats. He strokes his hand along her side, marveling at the soft fur, before his eyes wander down to her front paws.

Or, rather, paw.

“Whoa, what h—“

“I don’t know,” Arthur interrupts, his hand coming to rest under the cat’s mostly missing front leg. “Someone found her with a mangled leg and brought her and her babies to the clinic. Could have been an animal. Could have been a person. Could have been a trap. I had to remove a good bit of it.”

Alfred looks at him in shock. “You did the surgery?”

“Of course. Didn’t I tell you?” Arthur leads him up a short flight of stairs and into the townhouse proper. An equally old dog, spread out on the couch, lifts its silver head to watch them as they pass. Alfred notices it’s missing a hind leg.

Arthur stops abruptly again and Alfred really does knock into him this time. He apologizes, patting the other man on the back, before looking past his shoulder and into the kitchen.

The small table is covered with paper sketches, numbers and math. Curious, Alfred walks around Arthur and to the table. He notices there are photographs of cat and dog limbs, as well as a small number of bird of prey beaks. Near each photo is a white replica of the same limb or beak, with measurements and, strangely, material lists. Alfred cocks his head and turns to Arthur, ready to question him, before he sees the kitchen counter. Compared to the table, the counter space is clearer, but still cluttered with what Alfred is very sure are braces.

He meets Arthur’s eyes and the older man smiles, his hand rubbing his cat’s special leg. He hears the dog in the next room slide off the couch and close in on them.

“Alfred,” he explains with pride, “I specialize in animal prosthetics.”


End file.
